


To the grave

by EmmalinaInvendere



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Implied Mpreg, M/M, POV Stiles, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 14:06:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15511512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmalinaInvendere/pseuds/EmmalinaInvendere
Summary: Some secrets are meant to be shared ... some to be taken to the grave. This, Stiles wouldn't give anyone. This one secret, he would never speak of - this, he couldn't speak of. It was theirs.





	To the grave

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**I talk, and talk, and talk …**

… and talk.

I talk even when words desert me.

I talk even when no sense seems to be found in what leaves my mouth.

I talk even when I am barely conscious and certainly not coherent anymore, my tongue twisting agonizingly to form words.

… I don't even know if I can stop talking anymore.

But I know – I know with everything I am that I don't want to stop.

I don't want to give the others a chance to start asking questions they would inevitably stumble upon.

I don't want to give them a chance to actually think about what I have said and start to notice all the things I haven't said.

I don't want to give those closest a chance to look beyond the words spoken … because what lies beyond all those words I say and even more importantly beyond the words I never touch, is something I will never willingly articulate to the ones I do call family. It is something that despite the fact that I do love my family, that part of me and my life simply doesn't belong to them – it belongs to me, to us, and I won't let them wonder, won't let them have even the tiniest opportunity to question it.

Those words, that mean the world to me, that I have only ever spoken to you, I will never voice for them. They are words that belong solely to us.

Ours.

And I won't let others hear them.

Those words, I will take with me to the grave.

 

**For most of my life, I had exactly one friend.**

My best friend.

We were more like brothers, really, introducing each other as “My brother from another mother” and sharing everything, even our single parents’ attention – when I missed and longed for my departed mother, when I was so lonely and desperate for a maternal hand that it hurt, I learned that I could depend on his mother, on a strong and firm but caring woman who never hesitated to hug or comfort me. I called her Mama McCall. I still call her that, even though I am nearly an adult now, and she has never reprimanded me for it or withheld her support, not even when she was absolutely furious with me … I don't think I will ever stop caring for and depending on her. I’m not even sure I would be capable of absolutely freezing her out and denying her. And for all my mad research skills, I … never searched for a word to describe the relationship we share. Somehow, it makes it more personal.

And whatever I shared with Mama McCall, Scotty shared something similar but of a shifted nature with my father. When Scotty missed his father who had abandoned him and his mother years ago, when he felt ashamed for wishing the man who made his mother so miserable was still there and he could go to him for advice or to spend time, he learned to go to my father, who was simply there, never demanding but always reliable, always a steadying hand on your shoulder and sound if dead-panned wise words to give.

I have no idea how two terrors like us earned the love of two absolutely amazing parents who somehow managed us two troublemakers without regular nervous breakdowns – we certainly weren't easy, hell, that is still the farthest adjective anyone would use to describe us, but together, the four of us … we were our own strange little family.

And it was enough.

But enough became even better. It became good. It became whole. And along the way, it became great.

In the last year, this family gradually grew. It grew from the four us to include the last living Hales, Derek, Peter and Cora, natural born werewolves, it grew to include Allison and Chris Argent, hunters who reformed and defined a new hunters code that even the supernaturally inclined of our family could stand behind, it spanned to collect Isaac Lahey, Vernon Boyd and Erica Reyes, moody bitten teenage werewolves, hell, we even engulfed Lydia, our own banshee, Jackson, the preternaturally insecure and douche werewolf-kanima-hybrid, and Danny, the resident hacker, as well as Doc Deaton, the always riddle-speaking emissary and Scotty’s boss at the animal clinic, in our strange little family.

It felt unbelievable great.

It felt ridiculously right.

Despite all the hurdles and burdens along the way, despite the horrors we witnessed and the traumas we survived, no matter how bent, broken or battered we ended up, through trial and error and overwhelming gratefulness an even stronger sense of loyalty and family was born. I loved how often scrabbles broke out, how it was playfulness, not maliciousness, which fuelled them, and how it never tore us apart.

It became so easy to smile, and not a sarcastic smirk or a fake smile, no, a sincere and honest smile.

This was my little family, and I trusted them with everything I was.

Well …

Everything but the one who ignited the spark in my heart and soul with an intensity that burned me alive again and again, the one and only I would ever whisper those cherished words to, words that would always and forever belong to only us.

But – I am kinda the undisputed king of random rambling …

… and, really, was it any wonder that no one was ever any the wiser?

 

**While I lived my normal life and gained an even bigger family along the way, I …. no, I didn't really play a role – at least, I don't think of it like that.** It wasn't like that. To say I played a role would indicate that I lied, that I betrayed those I cherished as family, and while I wasn’t the most forthcoming with actual information, I cared and care too much for my family to do that to them. To give them reason to question my life and devotion. Most of my reactions were scarily honest, and I never actually spoke a falsehood – but then, few would have discerned the truth from my rabbity and admittedly often misleading words.

But misleading is not lying. I spoke no lie; I just didn't share all the facts. In that, I was very careful with my words.

But how, exactly, could I have told them?

Those years ago, before most of them even had an inkling that the supernatural actually existed, I had found my spark, that magical light in the dark, which warmed my soul and was fuelled by belief? That I had nearly went insane with fear, anxiousness and questions when I started to accidentally manipulate the elements? That instead of seeking help from my family, fearing their reactions, fearing myself, I had went on a recherché binge and by chance met someone online who not only was a spark like me, and could tell me what I was, but someone who also knew of the supernatural because he had been born into a werewolf family in Ireland? That he had taken me under his wing? That we skyped daily for years? That under his tutelage, I had grown from a spark into an inferno – one I controlled completely, one I was certainly skilled and talented enough to hid from all those that sought to harm us? That I learned of my mother’s origins, that magic was cursing strongly through my veins courtesy of generations of mages and sparks in my ancestry, and that my maternal grandmother was delighted with the fact that I was not only a spark like her, but that I wanted contact? That along the way, I fell for the one who had become my mentor? A mentor who had become the centre of my world – a centre they didn’t have the key to?

How could I?

How could I have told them that for nearly five years, I had lived a separate life, a happy life, and that for three of those years, I have been in love? How could I have explained to them that last summer, when I told everyone that I wanted to visit my cousins in Poland, I had actually travelled to Ireland, with the blessing of my grandmother who knew the whole truth, and mated to my boyfriend?

That in essence, I was married magic-style to another man – someone they didn’t even know exists?

How could I tell them that I was so in love, the torturous distance between us was driving me mad?

The answer?

I couldn't.

And it was unbearable.

 

“ _**I love you.”**_

“ _I love you more.”_

“ _I love you to the moon and back.”_

“ _I love you beyond the stars and the moon and the sun.”_

“ _I love you more than can be measured, more than should be humanely possible.”_

“ _I love you so much, it hurts.”_

 

“ _**Handsome.”**_

“ _Not really.”_

“ _Pretty.”_

“ _You are ridiculous.”_

“ _I could map out your body all day long and never tire of it.”_

“ _What a dull way to spend the day.”_

“ _No, it really isn't. I would connect all your moles as if I was mapping the stars, your lips the dawning moon and your eyes the brightest sun.”_

“ _Are you … really trying to seduce me?”_

“ _Do I need to try?”_

“ _Don't be silly. I am yours, and I always will be. Heart, mind, body and soul.”_

“ _And I will take it all. I will take you exactly how you are, perfect in your own way, and not one thing to change.”_

“ _I love you.”_

“ _I love you more.”_

“ … _let's agree to disagree.”_

“ _If that lets you sleep at night.”_

“ _I don't think that you will let me sleep tonight.”_

“ _As if you are disagreeing to_ that _.”_

“ _Damn no.”_

 

“ _**Marry me.”**_

“ _Yes.”_

“ _No hesitation?”_

“ _Never. Never with you.”_

“ _Even though legally, we can't marry yet? We can't even get engaged?”_

“ _So what? I don't need a pretty piece of paper, or some old fool declaring us married before god. I only need you … crap, which sounds really sappy.”_

“ _I like it when you are sappy – besides, I am the one who asked to marry you. And even though we can't marry legally, I promise you, as soon as we can, we will. Until then and beyond, I want you to know that you will always be the only one for me.”_

“ _As if I could ever love someone else … you have utterly ruined me for anyone besides you.”_

“ _Good.”_

“ _Hey!”_

“ _You are mine, and I am yours.”_

“ _I am yours and you are mine.”_

“ _We will have to wait with the marriage … but … mate with me. Let us join in the eyes of magic, let us become one.”_

“ _Yes.”_

 

“ _**I love you.”**_

“ _I will always love you.”_

“ _In health and sickness.”_

“ _Through good and bad.”_

“ _With everything we are.”_

“ _With everything we will become.”_

“ _I am yours.”_

“ _You are mine.”_

“ _Faithfully.”_

“ _Eternally.”_

“ _One.”_

“ _So we swear.”_

“ _So it mote be.”_

 

_**These are our words.** _

_Ours alone._

_And no one will ever take them from us._

 

_**We are one.** _

_We will always be one._

 

**It was torture.**

It was hell.

It was the day my life ended.

And I hated the fact that I was still alive.

 

**Everything was grey.**

Colourless.

Why?

Why … why did he have to leave?

To leave where I could not follow yet?

 

_**Because for you, for the love we share, for the promises I gave you, I will continue on.** _

_For you, and for the gift our sparks granted us._

_That precious gift slumbering right beneath my heart._

 

**I was always talking, always in motion, my words weapon and defence and distraction all at once.** I never stopped talking, even when my words were empty, meaningless … what a show.

I never stopped speaking …

I just never spoke the whole truth.

I never spoke of you.

I never spoke of the one who gave me those two breathtaking gifts. Not even when my friends, my family, asked, practically begged to know, once those keen sharp werewolf ears were able to hear two fluttering small heartbeats right beneath my own, not even when my scent changed and everyone was clued in.

Not when some were frothing at the mouth from the idea that I had been dishonoured, not when others frowned at me for my choices I made or the secrets I kept. None were happy. My dad was so angry that I had been knocked up and wouldn't speak of the father. Melissa looked at me with disappointment. Scotty had hurt written all over his face and wouldn't speak to me for months. The pack … how angry they were, at my secrets, at me, at the fact that I kept silent about my magic, magic that could have helped them – I did help as stealthily as I could, at the time. If you hadn't gifted me those two miracles, if Deaton hadn't explained how two Sparks no matter they gender could create a new life by joining their energies while also joining their bodies, they would have never known, but now that they know … sometimes it's so tempting to pack up my bags and run away, maybe to Poland, maybe to Ireland … just away.

Somewhere I could. No judgement. No expectations. No limitations.

Seldom can someone hurt us as well as family can..

But … oh, but it doesn't even matter. You are dead, and I'm anchored to the here and now in a way I can't escape.

Our little miracles need me, just as they need you, and if they can't have you, then I will have to do everything I can to make it up to the two. I won't give up.

Not when, even if just for a time there, support was a fickle thing.

I burrowed myself in your memory …

… and I never spoke your name.

 

_**I couldn't because the words died in my throat, refusing to leave.** _

_I wouldn't because what we have hasn't died with your mortal shell, at some point we will be reunited in the afterlife, and I won't allow them to take even one grain of our happiness, our love._

_I didn't want to because as selfish as it is, you are mine._

 

_**Your family and friends will know the twins, I will not take that away from them.** _ _They will know our children, they will be part of their lives and family … but I can't speak of you to even our children. That, your parents and brother, your grandparents and aunt will have to do._

_I couldn't do it when they weren't yet born, and I know that I won't be able to when they are born._

_Not because I would keep you from our children … but because it would break me in a way I would not be able to return from. Speaking of you will take me from our children, the desperation to be with you would become too real, too strong to deny … and that, I can't do that. As long as our babies need me, I will be there. I will keep my promise and never love someone like I love you, that kind of love, this all-encompassing romantic love is ours, and ours alone._

_It always will be._

_We will just have to wait a bit to be together again._

 

_**And I will take the truth of our love with me.** _

_Through life._

_Through death._

 

_**Because whether I want to or not, in the end no one would hear it from my lips.** _

_In the end, I took our promise with me to the grave._

 

“ _**I love you, Mieczyslaw.”**_

“ _I love you, Ian.”_

 

“ _**I will never tell someone else that I love them like I love you, for this love is ours, and ours alone.**_ **Forever and beyond.”**

 

_~ The End. ~_

 

 


End file.
